


Good old-fashioned Loverboy

by JaredKleinman



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21817969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaredKleinman/pseuds/JaredKleinman
Summary: But how does one seduce an angel, who was too oblivious to notice 6000 years of devotion or who was at least to buttoned up to say something about it if he did. Crowley must be as obvious as can be, that one was a given. He needed to make their next meeting so clearly a date that even Aziraphale could not convince himself otherwise. He needed to be romantic, really romantic and old-fashioned of course. – And then he had an idea.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley knew three things about Aziraphale for sure. Three things which could never be questioned, which were undeniably true and never-changing.  
First:

Aziraphale loved books. This was possibly the most obvious of the three, considering he runs a bookshop without ever selling anything because he just could not part with his beloved Shakespeare, Wilde and so many more. Honestly, Crowley knew many authors and most of their stories by now, without having read any of them just because he was friends with this immense glutton for books.

Second:

  
Aziraphale was a hopeless romantic. A sucker for romance, really. If you would take a closer look (and Crowley had taken several, considering the many times he visited Aziraphale) at the bookshop you would notice that most of the novels were in fact either classics, or love-stories. Most of the time even both. He loved those overly corny love confessions and far too dramatic families trying to do everything in their power to keep the two lovers apart (but of course they could not) not to speak of reunites during heavy rain or weddings so perfect it was artificial.

Third:

Aziraphale was as old-fashioned as could be. With his tartan bowtie and this over a century old coat, the words he used, his attitude, his values, everything about him really. Sometimes Crowley thought that even the way he moved reminded him of the last century, which was ridiculous, because how could one move old-fashioned? Then again - if someone could pull it off, it was Aziraphale.

Crowley also knew that he loved all three of these things and so many more. He loved Aziraphale for everything he was and had done so for a very long time.

  
_Making somebody fall in love with you is just convincing them that you are a great deal. I mean that’s like evolution right? If you think the person in front of you is nice and smart and strong and – all in all – a great deal. You’ll fall._

  
A good friend of his once said some when around 1970. He always thought about it a lot and he tried several things to convince Aziraphale that he was indeed the best deal he’d ever get. He tried to convey his love with every little thing he did, but either the angel was too dense to notice it, or he was not interested and politely ignored Crowleys attempts.  
Anyway. What Crowley needed were answers. Heaven and Hell would not bother with them for at least a few years so he needed to take his chance and get Aziraphale to honestly telling him, what he felt. Or rather, seduce him in the most elegant way, so he would definitely say yes. That would be better.  
But how does one seduce an angel, who was too oblivious to notice 6000 years of devotion or who was at least to buttoned up to say something about it if he did. Crowley must be as obvious as can be, that one was a given. He needed to make their next meeting so clearly a date that even Aziraphale could not convince himself otherwise. He needed to be romantic, really romantic and old-fashioned of course. – And then he had an idea.  
Dinner. He would take Aziraphale out to a very nice and very expensive dinner at the Ritz, he would pick him up at his bookshop, he would open the door of his car for him, then sit down himself, he would be the perfect gentleman, he would accompany him home, or maybe even to his own flat. They would drink wine together, they would laugh and somewhere in between, when Crowley had drunk enough to muster up the courage he would tell Aziraphale that he loved him.  
And when he was already at it, maybe he found a nice first edition he could give to Aziraphale. He did not want to know how much time it might cost searching for a book Aziraphale did not already have but he remembered him saying something about The Picture Of Dorian Gray and that he only managed to get a hold of the book from 1891 which was a first edition, but a variation of the typescript from 1890 which he would so much like to read.  
Well then, let the preparations begin.


	2. Chapter 2

A month later Aziraphale was just about to close the shop for the day as the ringing of his wired telephone filled the otherwise silent room. He made his way over to the little table and picked up.

"Hello, I'm sorry but we are quite definetely -"

"Aziraphale, it's me."

"Crowley! It is lovely hearing from you, is there anything I can do?"

It's always a pleasure talking to the demon. Espacially when you haven't seen him over a month and were on the edge of calling him yourself because you're worried but didn't dare because you wouldn't want to be as rude as to intrude. (And the delight must have been sensable in his voice because Crowleys heart skipped a few beats out of relief.)

"Do you have any important matters to attend to right now?" the demon asked and Aziraphale couldn't help but smile at the tempting tone of his voice.

"Coincidentally I do not."

"How about dinner at the Ritz? I could pick you up."

"That sounds just lovely."

"Perfect, it's a date then. I see you in 20."

"Minutes?"

"Seconds."

And indeed, as Aziraphale peeked out the window he saw the Bentley in front of his shop. A wide smile crept onto his face and suddenly he couldn't get out of his bookshop fast enough. As he opened the door he found Crowley standing in front of his car and opening the passenger door for him. He smiled at Aziraphale and the angel stopped in his tracks. Crowley wore a suit. A pitch black suit with a dark red dress shirt, his hair was neatly commend, a red flower tucked in the little breastpocket and Aziraphale stopped breathing as he made a little bow gesturing him to get inside the car. Since when has Crowley known how to be a gentleman?

 _It's a date then_.

Oh. Oh well. No. That was not what Crowley had meant, absolutely impossible. Maybe he just changed his fashion sense over the last month, that was it probably. It suited him very well too, he looked devilishly handsome in this suit. Objectively speaking of course. Somehow Aziraphale managed to get inside Crowleys car.

"You look dashing today, angel.", the demon said as he began to drive.

"I am looking the same as I always do."

"Exactly."

Well that was flattering. Aziraphale looked out of the window to hide the reddening of his cheeks.

"Everything's fine, angel?"

"Yes, of course. Perfectly fine. You look rather handsome yourself, If I may say so."

He definitely needed to take this conversation to safer grounds.

"Anyway, what have you been up to during the past month?"

 _Shit_. Crowley cursed in his head. He hadn't thought about a cover up story for the preperations. 

"Uhm... You know. This and that. I talked to my plants. Yes. They were awfully disobedient, took me a whole month to fix the mess."

"That sounds awful."

"It was."

Before anyone could say anything else they arrived at the Ritz and made their way to their - this time not miracled free but a week prior mindfully reserved - table. Crowley pulled Aziraphales chair out, and waited until the angel had sat down before doing the same.

"How very kind, thank you." said Aziraphale visibly flustered. "How come you being so well mannered tonight?"

"Well", said Crowley and grinned devilishly. "I told you this is a date, didn't I?"

Luckily for Aziraphale the waiter came this very moment and asked for their dinner choices, because all he could have said to that statement would probably come out as flustered, foolish gibberish.

So this is a date then. A real date. With Crowley. And he didn't even have the time to dress properly. Instinctively he tugged a little at his old waistcoat and in the process noticed how shabby it looked.

"Everything's fine, angel?"

"Yes, perfectly.", he pulled his coat a little closer to cover his waistcoat and smiled at Crowley "I'm just a bit cold, I guess."

Actually it was getting a little too warm with his coat, and Crowley being the perfect gentleman, in the perfectly wrong moment offered his scarf.

"Oh no, keep it I don't want you to get cold as well.", the angel tried to make his way out.

"I'm fine. Actually I think it's quite warm inside and if I do get cold I can always ask you to give it back."

And with that Aziraphale had no excuses left, took the scarf and hoped the food was there soon. It took another ten minutes until they finally got to eat. It was delicious, Aziraphale was glad he took the chef's choice and even though it was really really _really_ warm - a good dish was a good dish. They talked about unimportant things during dinner, things which were irrelevant but fun, stupid but somehow enlightening and after they had desert and s second flask of wine Aziraphale had almost forgot about the date-incident. He even let go of his coat.

"The bill please.", Crowley then told the waiter.

"Do you want to split the bill?", he asked and after flashing Aziraphale a wicked smile he turned back to the man and answerd: "We do not."

The waiter nodded and shortly returned with a leather case. After opening it and looking at the sheet of paper inside Crowley paid the sum. Aziraphale couldn't see the amount of money, but noticed the many bills Crowley pulled out of his wallet. They didn't really need to earn money, so he shouldn't have a bad conscious - and he didn't - he was just a little surprised because they usually paid separately.

"Thank you."

He smiled and Crowley offered his arm as they walked out. Aziraphale flushed crimson but took it anyway. When they were inside the car Crowley turned the engine on and looked over his shoulder at Aziraphale, his sunglasses were sliding a little down his nose. Aziraphale could see his eyes over the rims and Crowley raked his fingers through his hair. Aziraphale swallowed. He was an angel. Technically. And he was sexless. Technically. So why did he find a simple thing like this so horribly attractive?

"May I tempt you to come back to mine?"

Instead of 'yes please', which was what he almost sqeaked, he tried to get a little back on him. Okay, so this was date, no need to make it easy.

"Depends." he said in a - what he hoped would sound - flirtious voice. "What do you plan on doing with me once we're there ?"

Crowley suddenly turned very red and looked at Aziraphale flabbergasted. "Excuse me, what?"

"I said." said Aziraphale confused and with wounded pride. (Were is flirting techniques really that bad?) "What did you plan for us two to be doing in your flat. You know I have standards. So it depends on what you had in mind."

"Angel... Did you. Did you just try to flirt with me?"

"...Maybe.", he said awkwardly and looked out the window. This was far too embaressing.

At the same time Crowley was seriously contemplating to just throw over all his plans and propose right then and there. After a while Crowley heard Aziraphale hem.

"Was it really that bad? The flirting, I mean.", he asked softly.

 _No. No, of course not, it was perfect - you're perfect - I was just absolutely not expecting that, I guess_.

"Nah. It wasn't too bad."

And then they were there, which was great because Crowley needed some fresh air or otherwise he might listen to the voices in his head which were suggesting not very gentleman-like things, for example pushing Aziraphale up against his Bently right now and kissing him breathless. _This is a date. This is supposed to be romantic. IF you are going to kiss him tonight it's going to be bloody sappy. Get yourself together._ And he did. He offered his arm again and they climbed the stairs to his apartment together. Crowley reached for the doorknob as he seemed to remember something, his hand dropped and he turned to Aziraphale.

"I want to say something before I open this door: If anything of this goes too fast for you, please, tell me. I will stop immediately. I will drive you home, or not, whatever you want."

Aziraphale nodded. He doubted that anything could go too fast anymore. It's been sixthousand years, they were on their own sides now. He had finally caught up to Crowleys Speed. Whatever happened tonight, happened. And he would regret nothing. If they were going to snog on Crowley's couch so be it. If they would just be having a nice conversation that'd be fine as well.

"It's fine Crowley. I think I might have just caught up with you."

Aziraphale was startled by the look of utter affection and relief on Crowleys face, noticeable even despite his glasses _. I want to see his eyes._ Aziraphale suddenly thought and carefully walked over to the demon lifting his hands up to his face.

"Is this okay?", he whispered and the demon nodded at a loss of words. He slowly took of Crowleys glasses and was almost struck by the amount of love and hope which was staring back at him through these beautiful, yellow eyes.

He hadn't known. All those years and he hadn't known. Suddenly he could feel himself lean in to close the gap left between them but in the same moment Crowley turned away, opened the door and exposed a blinking Aziraphale to a version of his flat, which was exactly the same except for dancing orange light. His flat was completely illuminated by candles. All had a different shape and there were hundreds and they were white and it was beautiful. Everywhere was light and yet it wasn't exactly bright in the flat. It looked like a sea of flames. Aziraphale covered his mouth with one hand. It was seldom that he didn't know what to say.

"I really hope you like it. Please come inside. There is champagne."

He lured Aziraphale to a little table in the middle of the room where two glasses and a bottle of very expensive alcohol were already waiting for them. He filled the glasses with the golden liquid and handed Aziraphale one of them.

"To the world."

Aziraphale nodded and took a sip of the golden liquid. It was really good and he wanted to know the name of the Champagne, maybe buy it for future occasions if there were going to be any. Aziraphale was just about to ask, as he noticed a pile of books behind the flask on the table.

"I thought you didn't read..."

He said softly and nudged Crowley's shoulder in order to get his attention away from his face and to the books on the table.

"Oh", the demon answered eloquently. "Well. Uhm, yeah. I know I normally don't."

"And...are these by Oscar Wilde? Crowley, you never told me you had a good taste in books. I'd have never guessed."

"Now you're being insulting, angel.", Crowley scolded but even someone as dense as Aziraphale could hear that his heart wasn't into it. After all the angel had a reason to believe he didn't read. He told him so himself.

"Actually", he continued "I read them for you. You always talk to me about this guy and his stories so I bought all of his works and read them. I thought you might like someone you can talk to about them. Properly."

"Oh... Crowley, I think this is the nicest thing someone has ever done for me."

"Shut up", he looked away.

"No really. This means a lot to me.", Aziraphale came closer and inspected the books on the table. "Even Dorian Gray!"

"Well it is his most famous-"

"Did you know there is a typescript from 1890 which differs from the one year later edited version? Last week I called a shop in Ireland who claimed to have it, but they told me someone bought a few hours ago. What a pity...But I am positive I'll have it soon. After all I just have to wait until the owner dies, right?"

Crowley restrained himself from laughing. 'Wait until the owner dies' that could take some time, especially when he thought about the thing he had purchased last week which was momentarily laying on his desk in another room. He still waited for the right moment to give it to Aziraphale. He considered doing it now but instead snapped his fingers and classical music begann to play. It was a slow waltz, music to accompany, to fade in with the surroundings until you barely register it is there. The right moment hasn't come yet.

"So. Aziraphale. Do you mind if I ask you which part of Dorian Gray you found the most interesting?"

"Crowley, you mustn't. It is terribly sweet of you to have done this for me, but I know you don't _really_ enjoy talking about that -"

"Aziraphale", Crowley said gently and the angel looked over to him "As long as you are interested in it and enjoy talking about it there is nothing I'd rather have a conversation about. I mean have you ever seen your eyes when you're talking about books? They get all shiny and excited and..." he took a deep breath "and just so ineffably beautiful. I'd love to talk with you about anything that makes your eyes look like that. "

 _Was that a gentleman thing to say or just horribly cheesy?_ Anyway, he couldn't take it back anymore and it wasn't as if what he said wasn't true. Sometimes he mused that this expression was why he got smitten in the first place. Aziraphale on the other side of the table however clearly didn't know what to say to that. The poor thing was completely overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry", Crowley said and got up "Maybe that was a little too much. How about an apology-dance?"

He offered his hand to the angel and the music became something more present. The soft waltz from before had now been replaced by an equally melodic but more catchy version of itself. It was almost impossible not wanting to dance to it and Aziraphale took the opportunity of not having to say anything. Crowley took the lead and Aziraphale felt a little swept off his feet in the most positively connoted way possible. He tried to blame the alcohol for it but knew that he didn't drink enough to be properly drunk and that the feeling of buckling knees and a heart filled with helium had entirely different reasons. Like a certain dark-haired demon who was leading him across his living room as if he'd never done anything else. Holding him close, noses almost brushing, smiling gently down at him. Aziraphale only knew the gavotte, but in this very moment with Crowley leading him he felt as if he'd practiced their dance for years. When the music came to a stop Aziraphale found himself almost horizontal to the floor, with his arms flung around Crowley's neck and Crowley's hand around his waist and he couldn't breath because he was sure that the demon was going to kiss him now. Aziraphale closed his eyes and leaned in just a little bit. He expected Crowley's lips to be soft, they looked it at least, but as his own met resistance it felt dry and a little chapped. Which was fine - or would have been - if it actually were the demons lips he was kissing. Which he was not. The angel Aziraphale was currently kissing a piece of paper, held by the demon Crowley who had miracled it (as well as several others) in his hand a second ago. He didn't see Aziraphale closing his eyes and leaning in and he couldn't see the angel kissing his gift either because the very old piece of paper (belonging to an equally old magazine) shielded his sight. After a few seconds however he got a little worried because Aziraphale wasn't saying anything.

"Everything's fine down there?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"What.", Aziraphale answered and immediately after that: "Oh my god." And then again: "Oh my. I don't know what that thing is you are holding in front of my face but please don't take it away or I will discorporate from embarrassment."

Now it was Crowley's turn to ask "What?" and after a swift motion they were standing in front of each other again, Crowley lowered the hand in which he held the magazine and was greeted with the sight of a very flustered angel.

"You don't know what this is?", he asked and held up the magazine.

Aziraphales glance fell on it and after he'd read the title all the emberassment was gone and replaced by sheer excitement.

"Crowley, from which year is this magazine."

The demon grinned and played innocent. "Something around 1890 I think."

"And did you buy it in an old bookstore in Ireland?"

" 'Ancient' would be a better fit, but yes."

"Crowley."

"Yes?"

"Is that the release of the Lippincott's Monthly Magazine from 1890 in which The Picture Of Dorian Gray was published for the very first time?"

"Hm, I don't know. Do you want to look inside and see?"

Aziraphales gasped and took the magazine from Crowley awstruck. He opened it and carefully skipped through the pages. And yes. It was there. All of it. The magazine was in a perfect condition considering it's age and Aziraphale for the third time this evening was too overwhelmed to find the right words.

"I... I don't know what to say, that's... I can't believe you remembered that. I must have mentioned it once, but only in a clause... did you really...?" "Of course I did. I listen to you, believe it or not." Crowley smiled softly. "And just so you know. I didn't miracle it. I searched for weeks. Online, in prospects, it took me three days to figure out that what I was searching for is a magazine and not a book! I took the train to Dublin and I sold a few of my plants to cover the costs for the typescript. I even reserved the table at the Ritz a week prior. I... I wanted this to mean something. I wanted to put effort in it. And... ", Crowley stopped talking, visibly emberassed.

"And what?", the angel asked.

"Maybe...Just maybe I booked a month-long pair-dancing course, so we could dance tonight."

Aziraphale couldn't believe his luck for having such a great friend. A friend, that gave him such beautiful and thoughtful presents, learned how to dance just so he could dance with him, a friend he could talk to, who liked him the way he was, who took him on dates and opened passenger doors for him and reserved tables at the Ritz. A friend who loved him truly and probably had been for a very long time.

Oh he'd been so stupid.

A friend whom he himself had loved for just as long but he never dared acting upon it because Heaven might see.

But Heaven wasn't there anymore.

Aziraphale plucked up all his courage, walked over to the table and carefully placed the old magazine on it. Then he turned around and looked Crowley straight in the eyes. "You've been terribly kind to me this whole evening and now this. I don't know how I could possibly describe my gratitude and... Everything else, I'm afraid." with every word he came a little closer to the demon who was staring at him, unsure of what to do. "But fortunately the Almighty gave us more than words to express certain things." He was now standing in front of Crowley cupping his cheeks with both hands. He closed his eyes and kissed him on the cheek, a quick and shy peck which left both of their faces scarlet.

"That's how I'd like to express my gratitude.", Aziraphale said. "And that's how I'd like to express everything else."

And with that he leaned in and kissed Crowley straight on the lips. The demon's eyes went wide for a second only to flutter shut and tilt his head a little so he could have better access to the angels lips. Crowley's lips really were soft. Unbearably so and they tasted like the champagne they'd drunk not ten minutes ago. Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer until the angel was only just standing on the tip of his toes, his arms flung around the demon's neck and Crowle's hands caressing his cheeks ever so gently. The kiss lasted long but eventually came to an end. Crowley chased Aziraphales lips with his own as he tried to part, which made Aziraphale giggle and Crowley decided he wouldn't ever miss this sight for anything in the world. "So...", he said, their faces only inches apart. "So." Aziraphale answered. They were both grinning at each other like idiots (Crowleys grin was a little more broad than that of the angel and Aziraphale's more coy than the demon's) but neither of them could or wanted to stop. "So... would you mind taking this to a more comfortable location? The sofa for example?", Aziraphale asked. "I don't have one. But my bed should do nicely." And after a short snap of fingers they were in Crowley's bedroom, already kissing each other again before they could even touch the bed. They made it there eventually and when a nightingale sang in Berkerly Square it wasn't heard by two individuals so wrapped up in each other that they forgot about the rest of the world.

But it was there right enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I stole the candle-idea from my boyfriend who once surprised me with it as well as the thing with Aziraphale thinking Crowley's going to kiss him but he only holds this magazine in front of him.  
> That Crowley read all the Oscar Wilde books was also originally proposed by him.  
> ...  
> I just realized I didn't really think of much myself xD Well the 'not-miracle-thingy' was my idea at least...
> 
> I hope You enjoyed reading this and have a beautiful day ^^


End file.
